


Snow Ball, The

by spookyawards_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, Short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2003-09-01
Updated: 2003-09-01
Packaged: 2019-04-27 06:08:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,094
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14419281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spookyawards_archivist/pseuds/spookyawards_archivist
Summary: Stuck in a snowstorm, Mulder and Scully seek shelter in a mattress store.





	Snow Ball, The

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Spooky Awards](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Spooky_Awards), and was moved to the AO3 as part of the Open Doors project in 2018. I tried to reach out to all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are the creator and would like to claim this work, please contact me using the e-mail address on [SpookyAwards' collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/spookyawards/profile).

 

The Snow Ball

## The Snow Ball

### by Gina Rain

Title: The Snow Ball  
Author: Gina Rain Rating: PG-13   
Category: M/S UST, H, A, and fluff  
Spoilers: early season 6  
Archive: Sure, but drop me a line and let me know where.   
Summary: Mulder and Scully get stuck in a snowstorm and seek shelter in a mattress store.  
Disclaimer: They x-files don't belong to me (it's a shock, I know).  
A big thank you goes out to my beta, Sybil. Along with a wish that Santa will deliver a life-sized Mulder clone (in white silk boxers with peppermint candy cane decorations on them) to her door. What she chooses to do with said clone is her business. She's free, you know.  
(If he has a brother-clone, send him on over to me, please). 

Scully found the powder blue envelope in her in-box. She slid a fingernail under the snowflake-shaped seal and gently pulled out the embossed invitation. 

A charity ball. December 10th. Thrown by Congressman Ronald Waters. Congressman Waters--friend of AD Alvin Kersh. It wasn't an invitation. It was a royal command. 

Not going to the ball was almost not an option. If Kersh was involved in any way, this was nothing short of a direct order. Still, Scully thought, as she turned the invitation over in her hands, it didn't have to be a completely unpleasant experience. There was a part of her that always wanted to go to a fancy ball at Christmastime. 

The base where the Scullys had been stationed for many years always had a holiday ball. She was allowed to stay up and watch her parents as they prepared to leave the house. The ball always started late. Ten P.M. Little Dana thought that was terribly unfair. Everyone knew midnight was the witching hour for dress balls and it didn't seem right to have only two hours to play before magical coaches turned back into pumpkins.  
But maybe that was only Cinderella's problem. Mom already found her prince. And her dad always managed to look regal on such occasions. Dressed in his white uniform. Everything spit-shined and polished. Mom was a perfect match in a long, flowing gown with lots of material that, no doubt, would swish and sway as she danced with her husband. 

A few times, Dana even managed to sneak to the top of the stairs when she heard their car pulling back into the driveway hours later. Even though they looked slightly less sharp than when they left the house; they somehow looked just a bit more in love. 

Scully smiled at the memory and quickly marked the reply card. 

"Mulder. This isn't remotely amusing." 

"Do you see me laughing?" Actually, he wasn't even smiling. He had returned to the interior of the car after unsuccessfully checking under the hood and confirmed what they had already suspected. The car was dead. A more technical term Mulder was not trained to give but that was all that really mattered. It stopped. It wouldn't go. And they were stuck. In the middle of a nasty snowstorm that was beginning to look like a borderline-blizzard. 

The timing couldn't be more wrong. They had already been late for the ball. Or the "freaking ball," as he began calling it, after his date had slipped on some ice and taken a nosedive off the front stoop of her apartment house several days before. When he had suggested they "carpool" to the "freaking ball," and when, against her better judgement, Scully had agreed, a big red light, clanging bell or some symbolic stop sign should have made an appearance. It didn't. They were driving for about forty-five minutes when he decided to take one of his infamous shortcuts. And that's when the car decided to go on strike. Mulder was now cold and wet and Scully was not feeling much better. While they were hardly on a deserted stretch of road, it almost seemed that way since most sane people knew to stay indoors in such weather. 

"What did Triple-A say?" Scully asked, with a slight trace of impatience in her voice. 

"They said they would be here as soon as possible but that wouldn't be for quite a while. They suggested we find some sort of shelter since it's going to be damned cold tonight--to which statement, may I add the editorial comment--'duh'--and keeping the heater going for all those hours is hardly safe. So, they know the location of the car and will tow it when they get the chance but we are on our own. Hunk of junk," he said, punctuating his words with a neat slam of his fist against the steering wheel. She watched him bite his lip to squelch the pain he had just inflicted upon himself. Hunk of Junk: 1; Mulder: 0. 

Scully sighed. Loudly. 

Thus ended her hopes of attending the ball. Hopes that seemed rather foolish considering all that had happened during the past two weeks. Having no way to get there was, apparently, the icing on the cake. She mentally geared up for their upcoming storm survival maneuvers. 

She looked down at her strappy silver dancing shoes and mentally kissed them goodbye. If she were lucky, she wouldn't break her neck during their walk for warmth. The shoes could take the short walk from her apartment building to the car, and from the car to the entrance of the hotel. The shoes would not survive a hike in the snow. They had to be sacrificed for the greater good. 

She opened the car door and let the wind and snow slap against her face. She unbuttoned her long coat and stepped out of the car. 

"Scully, what the hell are you doing?" She knew he was standing behind her, wondering about the strange movements she was making. 

"Never mind. Just start walking." 

She finished her under the coat gyrations, having stuffed enough of the midsection of her evening gown into her pantyhose to make it a short dress. The shoes needed to be sacrificed but the deep blue velvet gown would be ruined over her dead body. 

She pulled the coat tight around her bulges and followed Mulder. 

They had been walking about a half hour when they saw the strip mall. Just a one-block area with six stores. All of them were closed for the evening and a few people had actually boarded their windows in preparation for the nasty storm they had been warned about all evening. 

They should have rented an SUV. They should have called a limo service. 

It was all too late now. All they could do was walk to the back of the stores and see which lock would be easier to pick. 

"Donut shop?" Mulder asked. 

"No--go for the mattress store first." 

"Why, Scully. You little devil." 

"Just do it, Mulder. My toes are falling off." 

"Of all the impassioned pleas I've heard for me to "just do it," yours is definitely the most original." 

He went to the back door of the bedding store and picked the lock within fifteen seconds. Scully moved her near frostbitten toes into the store. They were standing in a small hallway with a bathroom to the right and a door that led to a small office on the left. The showroom was beyond the doorway. They automatically headed in that direction. 

Mulder flicked a switch and the main lights came on-- illuminating a huge store with approximately forty beds on display. 

"Well, well, well. . .is fate trying to tell us something, or what?" 

Scully was looking around the huge room. 

A few desks and chairs were set up to clinch the deals made in the showroom but other than that, there were basically bare mattresses on various and sundry bed frames. 

"There aren't any blankets," she said, not able to keep the disappointment from her voice. 

"Well, no--I mean, there wouldn't be, would there?" 

"No. I was just hoping for one bed that might have one. Can you make a few phone calls and get us out of here? I'm going to see what's in the back." 

She turned and left the room. She peeked into the bathroom. Just a regular, small "behind the scenes" type of functional bathroom. The other room held a little more promise. It was a small office/break room. It had a couch, a few mattresses standing against the wall and a small refrigerator. There were no windows but two space heaters graced the floor. She switched both on immediately, then removed her coat in spite of the chill. It was simply too wet to keep on. Next came her shoes and pantyhose and then she finally yanked her dress down to its original position. She felt the heavy velvet fall over her knees and was glad that it did not go the route of her formerly lovely shoes. It was lovely. The perfect color; just enough texture to drape down in a slinky sort of way and it was just a tiny bit sexy on top. Just two thin straps holding up a fairly low cut gown. The Wonderbra had nicely agreed to work overtime and she had been pleased with the results when she left the house. She wanted to give Mulder a vision that might direct his attention to her for a few seconds. 

"I got through to a car service who told me I was nuts and then called someone from the bureau to rescue us...He also told me I was nuts but. . .whoa!" Mulder came to a quick stop I the doorway, as he saw Scully in her gown for the first time that evening. "Um. . .nice dress." 

"Thanks," she looked down for a moment. "You were saying?" She asked as she watched him peel his eyes away from her creamy cleavage. 

"Oh, yeah. Um--the guy at the bureau said I was nuts, too, but he would send out someone to rescue us as soon as possible but for us to get comfortable and 'not hold our breaths' because, after all, we are not on duty and, consequently, highly expendable at this point." 

"That's nice. Do you want coffee? Apparently, they stock a few luxuries here." 

"Sure." 

Scully quickly went about the task of filling the carafe with bottled water and putting a fresh pot to brew. Then she sat on the couch and watched as the coffee began to drip into the pot. 

"You okay, Scully?" 

"Sure." 

"You look--preoccupied." 

"No. I'm just thinking about frostbite, I guess." 

"Geez. I forgot about your toes. Let me look." Before she could say a word he was down on the ground examining her feet. He pulled one cold foot into his lap and she pulled it away without a word. 

"Pain?" 

"A little. Just the blood rushing back where it belongs." 

He sat back on his haunches and winced. 

"What's wrong?" She asked, paying full attention to the man--and not her very mixed feelings for the man-- for possibly the first time that evening. 

"I'm very wet." 

"Take it off, Mulder." 

His smile returned full force. 

"Take what off?" 

Her expression didn't change. It was still in absolute enigmatic mode. 

"Take off whatever is wet so it can dry." 

"You sure?" 

"Yes. I'm sure. As long as you leave your boxers on...I will contain myself. I swear." 

He laughed softly and took off his shoes and coat first. As he reached to undo his bow tie, she sighed. He shot her a quick glance but she looked away. She heard him unzip his pants and lay them across a chair. She looked up and he caught the small smile that graced her lips. 

"Something funny?" 

"A little." 

She had waited for years to see Mulder in a tuxedo again. She had so looked forward to it, as she had many things that evening. It almost physically hurt to see that tuxedo begin to come off before she even was allowed one good look but the sadness couldn't take firm hold because the sight of him in bare legs, boxers and full tuxedo regalia (sans tie) from the waist-up was amusing. 

"I live to make you laugh," he said and sat down on the couch, trying to mimic her position and settle in to watch as the remaining drops of coffee hit the almost full pot. 

If only that were true. Her melancholy mood returned quicker than she thought possible. 

After the coffee pot let out one last gurgle--Mulder leapt to his feet and left the room. Scully sighed and went to pour two styrofoam cups full. The refrigerator was stocked with milk, bottled water, and a half filled box of individual coffee cakes. Not exactly champagne and truffles, but it would have to do. 

"Ta-da," Mulder came in lugging a pail of hot water and a washcloth. "Close as I could get to a towel. Now, I know you're not supposed to plunge your tootsies in there right away but maybe a warm compress followed by quick dips?"' 

Scully stood there--cups in hand--watching her pantless hero put down the pail. She hated herself for still feeling so much resentment when he was in a sweet, thoughtful mood but until she found an outlet for venting those frustrations, she could not fully appreciate anything wonderful he might decide to do. 

"Scully? Aren't those cups hot?" 

"Here," she handed him his coffee. They'd save the cake for later. They resumed their positions on the couch and she pulled the hem of her dress back above her knees so she could take those short "dips" in the pail. 

"We can share, you know," she said suddenly, remembering his dress shoes had been no less waterproof than hers. 

"You'd let me put my big old feet in your water? I'm seriously touched." 

"Shut up, Mulder." 

He put his feet in and let out a little yowl of pain. She was right--his feet were suffering, too. After a few moments, he lifted his feet out and she put hers back in. 

He nudged her shoulder with his own. 

"I know this room is much warmer, but the showroom does present a lot more possibility for excitement than this tag team foot dunking thing we've got going here." 

"Too bad Diana is such a klutz or you might be testing your theory now." 

Damn. So much for enigmatic. The doctor had not only left the building but had let out a huge, uncensored thought while making her exit. And a whopper of a thought at that. 

"So, that's what's been bothering you," he said, in that hushed tone that indicated the light bulb of truth had just come on over his head. 

"No, it's not." 

"Sure it is. You're annoyed that I was originally scheduled to attend the ball with Diana." 

"You can go with anyone you want. It's a free country." 

"For the record, I didn't ask her. She asked me." 

"You accepted," she said, and even she could hear the hurt in her voice. 

"Only because I thought you'd never want to go. I mean, it's been one hell of a year and last year at this time. . ." 

"I know all about last year at this time," she said, cutting him angrily, "and when did I give you any indication that I ceased to live my own life when Emily died? It's not about her. Or me. You have the perfect right to want to have fun when you go out socially and you just don't associate me with good times of any sort. Quite the opposite. And that realization. . .hurts." 

There it was out. And she automatically felt better. She'd feel worse later but for this split second, the weight of the last few weeks began to ease off her shoulders. 

"It's not true," he said simply. 

"It is true. I can share your journey, your pain, your angst. But that entangles me in a whole web of negative associations. And one day, you will be tired of living a life of negativity and find someone who can make you smile. Who can make you happy. Maybe you already did. She makes you believe <she believes> everything you think or say. You can't find that with every woman. You can't even find that with every partner." 

"Scul--lee." 

She pulled her feet out of the water and dried them off with the washcloth. She then moved so her back was against the armrest of the couch as she tucked her feet beneath the velvet of her gown. Pandora's box was opened--wide. She might as well go all the way. Get it out of her system and then move on. 

"Would you have slept with her?" 

"What?" 

"Just answer." 

"I'd like to think I wouldn't," he said quietly. 

"You'd like to think?" 

"Do you want me to lie? I can't guarantee that I wouldn't. I'd just like to think I wouldn't." 

She closed her eyes and sipped her coffee. 

"Are you going to tell me what you are thinking?" he asked. 

She opened her eyes. She was tired. Maybe the weight of the world hadn't been lifted after all. She didn't even know why she started this. She didn't like talking about herself. She definitely didn't like giving voice to her emotions. Giving voice to them gave them a certain reality. And she had given enough of her reality--pieces of her soul--to Fox Mulder. She didn't want to keep adding to his collection. And, yet, she started it. And she was going to finish it. He wanted honesty. She could give him honesty in spades. 

"I was thinking about fairy tales. I was a tomboy but there were a few stories I really liked as a kid. For a while, I was on a Cinderella kick. I liked the idea of a ball with all the finery and a Prince Charming. I <wanted> to go to this stupid party. I wanted you to see me in a different light. Not Special Agents Mulder and Scully running for their lives, searching for the truth but Fox Mulder and Dana Scully just standing still for a moment. A man and woman seeing each other as a man and woman. But. . .the woman with the biggest knockers got noticed first. And old faithful stepped in when 'she who couldn't see her shoes' fell over her own feet." 

He began to look frustrated. 

"Diana opened her invitation while I was getting something from the basement. She turned and asked me if I wanted to go. I just automatically said yes." 

"And that's fine," Scully said, feeling a bit spent and more than a bit foolish at her outburst. "You don't have to defend yourself. I'm just telling you some of what I've been feeling lately. I thought we were getting a bit closer since the OPR hearing. And I guess we are--as partners. And that's really fine." 

"Scully, this is the oddest conversation." 

"Well, let's stop. Talk about an x-file. You know you want to." 

"I want to make you feel better about tonight." 

"I'm just tired, Mulder. I think it's post-traumatic stress catching up with me. Getting colder than I've been since Antarctica. . ." 

"What?" 

"I'm entitled to have a little breakdown, aren't I?" She asked with a smile. How does he do things? Deflect with humor. Subject dropped. Life continues as always. 

"Sure. Go for it." There was a nastiness in his tone that she didn't like. At all. 

"Thank you for your sensitivity." 

"I would be very sensitive if I thought you didn't just pull that out of your. . .hat. You are doing it again. You are rationalizing even your own words and behavior." 

"That's what I do. That's who I am." 

"No, it's not. You've been showing me bits and pieces of who you really are at this moment in time. And all I said was--it's odd. Not that you should stop." 

"Well, then I will finish. I guess I've just been picturing myself as being on the outside looking in someday. After I've made a full emotional commitment, I will have to someday gather whatever pride I have and watch as you find your happiness with someone else. It's not a picture that makes me happy." 

He pulled his feet out of the water with a jerk and literally climbed on top of her like a praying mantis stalking a spider. She held her coffee cup towards her chest so it wouldn't spill. 

"Mulder! What the hell?" 

"I will never leave you on the outside of anything." 

"You don't have to say this, Mulder. I'm just telling you what I think. You don't have to go to desperate measures to make things right. They already are right. Just in a smaller scope that I had allowed myself to think of." 

"You owe me a kiss." 

"What?" 

"You owe me a kiss. And don't think you can use that old "got stung by a bee-infected with an alien virus and shipped to Antarctica excuse forever. I <want> my kiss." 

"Oh--get off," she pushed at his chest but he wouldn't budge. He reached out and took her coffee cup from her hands and set it down on the floor by the couch. He leaned on his elbows and put both hands on either side of her face. 

"Feel familiar yet?" he asked as he moved in closer. 

"Mulder. . ." 

He moved his head so he was as close as they were before their long-ago near kiss ended abruptly. 

"Kiss me, Scully." 

"No." 

"You don't want to?" 

"I didn't say that." 

"Then, kiss me." 

"No." 

"Why?" his whispered breath tickled her mouth. 

"Because I've done enough sharing of emotions today. It's your turn." 

He moved closer and lightly pressed his lips to hers. She felt the tip of his tongue swirl against her lower lip like the melting of a snowflake. Soft, light, barely there. A fleeting moment; a lasting memory. 

He moved his face back. 

"Now, exactly what part of "Scully, I love you" did you not get when I came back from the Bermuda Triangle?" 

"The part that would like to think he would not sleep with Diana." 

"Agh!" he said with a smile, carefully disengaging his body from hers without digging in a knee or elbow. He resumed his former position on the other side of the couch and dipped his feet back in the water. 

She sat up a little straighter and reached for her coffee, stopping suddenly to taste her own lips to see if she could find a little bit of Mulder left behind. 

"Scully--I haven't had sex in a long time. IF--and I am saying if--I had sex with Diana--it would be exercise, not love. And that's why I wouldn't have sex with you at this point. Because it would be love. And you deserve my undivided attention. You don't need to live with me jumping up from bed to chase down a lead." 

"I would 'like to think' you wouldn't be thinking about leads if you really loved me." 

"Possibly. And that's the problem, isn't it? We've worked so hard and come so close--" 

"Ah, this is good. We're heading back to the solid ground of x-file territory." 

"Why do you drive me absolutely crazy only when we're in these impossible conditions?" 

She stood up from the couch and walked over to one of the mattresses. She tipped it over and watched as the dust from the floor set up a little cloud due to the impact. She tested the couch cushion she had been sitting against and it was removable. She put it on the mattress to use as a pillow. 

Mulder was leaning forward, watching her. 

"What are you doing?" 

"Well, since I'm driving you crazy all of a sudden. . .and since we're in an impossible situation--I am going to help you out here. I'm going to sleep. You mind if I turn off the overhead light?" 

"Um. No. There is a lamp on the desk." 

She let out a little shudder. It was one of those very old, drunken-clown-against-a-lampost lamps that were made--well, way before she was born. She hated clowns. They used to scare the hell out of her as a child and being grownup did little to ease her extreme dislike. Still, it was a softer light and she was the one who asked. She switched on the lamp and turned off the overhead. 

"There is some cake in the refrigerator, Mulder. If you get hungry. If you go out to the main room or walk outside, just close the office door because this dress is not too warm and the heater is only warming up the floor at this point." 

She pulled one of the heaters as close to the mattress as safety would allow and curled up on one side. She felt the bed dip besides her after a few moments. 

"Is this okay, Scully?" 

"Sure. Take a nap. You must be tired, too." 

"Not even a little." 

"Oh." 

"You owe me a dance, you know." 

"Mulder. . ." 

"See. You do this all the time. I know you don't like hearing it but it's true. You consider all my flirting to be full of shit and--Scully--I don't know how to go up a level without taking it at least a couple of steps at a time." 

"What's that supposed to mean?" 

"I flirt. You flirt back. I try a little something. You slap me away--but not with any real intention of putting me off. I try again--you respond a little less forcefully than the time before. I pretend to give up- -you jump my bones--and we're off to thee races. That's the way it's supposed to be. Not: I flirt. You shoot me down. End of story." 

She smiled in spite of herself. Mulder was certifiable at times but almost terminally cute. 

"Should we start over?" she suggested. 

"Maybe. One rule first--or should I say one clarification. Diana is a friend. An old and trusted friend. She is a sometime--exercise--partner. I get a little defensive about her because--well, hell. I get defensive about all my friends. But she is not the one I wanted to go to this stupid work thing with and she's not the one I want to be with and anything I say or do is just for you and me. Okay?" 

She nodded. She still hated the bitch but he'd have to draw his own conclusions. And, while he didn't need to know it at this particular moment, if he ever 'exercised" with Busty Maroni again, she'd search under every rock until she found Diana and kicked her squarely in the ass. 

"Okay, let's go back. You owe me a dance, you know." 

"Oh, I suppose you mean the horizontal mambo." 

"No. Not necessarily." 

"You call that flirting?" 

"You threw me off. You flirted too hard." 

"Mulder!" 

"Okay. Skip the flirting. I'm going to sneak my arm around your waist now." 

"No wonder you haven't had sex in years. Who announces these things?" 

"I respect you. Hey--you know--there was a security camera in the hallway. I draped a washcloth over it. If I didn't respect you, I could have lured you out into the showroom and had one of those tapes I could have sold for big bucks to some voyeur site. Not that I know of any. . ." 

"Well, make sure you pull that off before we leave or someone might run off with a mattress or something." 

She watched him smile. A big, toothy grin. That made her smile. A big toothy grin. He pulled her closer to him. 

"I could keep you warm, you know. No heater necessary." 

"Could you?" 

"Um, hmmm...good flirting, by the way. Just enough without throwing the guy for a loop." 

"Gee, thanks." 

"I could keep you warm. Very warm. Very, very warm." 

She put out a hand and pushed him back against the mattress. 

"Mulder. Triple A might be coming in a couple of hours and at this rate, I will still never really get a decent kiss out of you. Do you really love me?" 

"Yes." 

"Good," she said, and bent over and kissed him. She wanted to be seen in a new light. Probably not in the glow of a clown lamp but still. . .there was very little doubt, as she finally slipped her tongue into his mouth, that he was viewing her as all woman. And as she felt his erection spring to attention, she wasn't thinking about special agent Mulder but the man she had been waiting for all this time. Sex wasn't what they were after tonight; just the first breathless sense of discovery. First kisses, first gropes, first battles with one's own hormones to hang onto precious self control. 

They spent the next hour keeping warm. Very warm. Very, very warm. 

And just when Mulder caught enough of his breath to suggest that it would behoove them both to run outside and sit in some snow--they were rescued. Probably from themselves. 

And Scully returned to her apartment, looking considerably more disheveled than when she had left, but feeling so much more in love. 

The End 

Author's Notes:  
This was in response to the Haven's Guilty Pleasure challenge. Required elements were (and I really hid them this time):  
Fear of clowns (okay, I didn't hide that one) Stalking   
Voyeurism  
A Search  
Now go back and find those last three. They are there! 

In fan fic, I have lots of guilty pleasures. Among them:  
Holiday fic (check)  
Sappy fic (check)  
Mulder and Scully talk fic (check)  
Scully jealous fic (check)  
Snow fic (check)  
FBI Ball fic (uh--sort of--half a check) Stuck Fic (check)  
I hate Diana fic (check)  
Mulder in formal-wear fic (check)  
Mulder out of formal-wear fic (half a check) I also LOVE first time fic but both Mulder and Scully took great issue with "doing it" for the first time in such an obvious place. They reminded me that I write x-file fan fiction and not fan fic for "Love, American Style." Such intense, difficult people! They weren't totally against making out in such an obvious place, though, so I took what they gave me and ran with it. Seasons Greetings, folks.   
  


#### If you enjoyed this story, please send feedback to Gina Rain


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